Man's Greatest Treasure
by Ivorette
Summary: Neville is tired of his newly-received recognition from the Department of Mysteries until Luna sees a different picture of him. NevilleLuna


Surely I can't be the only Neville/Luna shipper out there ... anyway, this was originally a self-imposed, timed challenge piece that I reworked to post here. All authors appreciate feedback, and I'd love it if you'd review and tell me what you think ... remember, there's always room for an author to improve.  
  
Disclaimer: Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and all other characters mentioned from Harry Potter are the property of J. K. Rowling, not myself. With that out of the way, let's get on with the show!  
  
*****  
  
*Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.* - Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix  
  
Neville was getting tired of people finally noticing him, telling him how brave he must have been in the Department of Mysteries, how fearless, how courageous, until it all the words ran together in a stream of nonsense that meant nothing. He was also tired of Hermione and Ginny's pitying looks and hushed conversations about his parents. He'd trained himself to fit a solitary mold for a long time now, and it was uncomfortable and annoying to suddenly have another's presence forced in as well.  
  
Not to mention Snape's leering joy at humiliating him in his marks, at and random Slytherins asking to take care where he points that fat face of his. But he was used to that now, and sometimes felt that the picture they painted of him was more accurate.  
  
He didn't feel tired of Harry, but Harry wasn't the one working at his table, fixing everything in turn with a long, hard stare. Neville tried his hardest to keep his head down and his mind on his work, but those large eyes seem to invade his peripheral vision with exasperating persistence. She had neither praised or insulted him, and Neville wondered against his will what image she saw.  
  
Luna's very arrival in the library was odd, but oh-so-commonplace where she was concerned. She appeared to stumble in by accident but looked surprised to see him, her permanently surprised expression looking almost comically frantic as her eyes widened. Her eyes slowly shrank back to their normal proportions as she ambled over in her usual vague way, and she simply stood for a few moments, staring at him. Neville offered a feeble "hello," and when she waved back he noticed she had decided to wrap her butterbeer cap necklace around her bony wrist.  
  
Neville could only remember fragments of the ensuing conversation, information fresh from the Quibbler; apparently the Dark Lord had a reserve of Engorged crups on hand, and the Ministry just might have Neville's toad after all.  
  
They didn't talk much after that, and Neville reflected that he really shouldn't have been surprised. Luna had the Ravenclaw work ethic, after all, and considerable book-smarts even if she couldn't always apply them. He kept his head down to his Herbology essay, and it wasn't until hours later that he exhausted his subject and looked up to see a nondescript Hufflepuff seventh-year yawn and trudge slowly from the library.  
  
With a jolt he realized that he and Luna were the last ones there, and that she was asleep across from him with her wand still tucked behind her ear. The torches were dimming to signify the end of library hours, so he stumbled around the table to wake her. Before he did so he hesitated, noticing streams and spatters of ink on her collar and smudges where they'd rubbed into her fair skin and straggly hair. He remembered Potions of his second year when Malfoy had loosed a jet of indelible, luminous green paint down his back and wondered if there was a boy like Malfoy in every Hogwarts year.  
  
He mutely shook her and helped to gather her things. After a long look and a slight smile, she gave him a solemn handshake and shouldered her bag.  
  
"We should walk together. It's harder for a Lethifold to attack two people," she said seriously. Neville felt nervous, vaguely recalling that name from a textbook. When she turned on her heel and walked briskly to the entrance as if he were not there, he found himself trotting behind her, not wanting to walk alone even if it meant walking with her. The torch brackets along the corridors were also starting to dim, and few gave off more that the weak, fluttery light you'd expect from a candle in its last hour of wick.  
  
They said nothing until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor, and Neville almost said the password as per routine when he realized that Luna was still next to him.  
  
He smiled. "Are you sure you'll be okay from the Lethifolds?" The Ravenclaw dormitories were in a tower on the west end of the castle and it would be at least ten minutes more of a walk for her.  
  
She just shook her head though, and fished an odd-looking amulet from beneath her robes. "I'll be okay."  
  
It didn't say much to Neville, but it did explain why her butterbeer-cap necklace was around her wrist.  
  
"Good night, then," he said finally and turned to tell the Fat Lady the password, even if it did mean that Loony Lovegood would know.  
  
"You're cute, you know."  
  
"Huh?" Neville spun around, thinking fleetingly that the smudges of ink on her skin looked like old bruises.  
  
She took a single step forward and continued to gaze at him, her silvery eyes seeming to expand. "You're cute," she repeated evenly. "In a bumbling middle-child sort of way."  
  
He didn't answer. She blinked, and he knew he didn't have to.  
  
They stared at each other for a few moments, and for the first time Neville found himself not wishing that she would blink those creepy eyes of hers. The weak torchlight revealed a different picture of Luna, her eyes darkened to a more solid gray and her pale eyebrows standing out on skin that appeared to have a healthy tan. The shadows of inky bruises and a vaguely drawn smile was etched on her face and Neville saw both images of her, overlapping to create a Luna that was different and identical to the face he saw often, both at the same time.  
  
As she walked away he stared after her, dwelling on her last comment. Was it merely another one of the extraordinary things she believed, or did the light paint a different picture of him as well? He tried to imagine it, an image of himself where his face was not childish and round and his teeth were fine, unlike his face and yet still him. If it did exist, he found himself hoping that Luna would be able to see it again. 


End file.
